By Natalia Kurgalina
I know, it will come some time.
I do believe in that true hour.
He will find me among the crowd.
But may be, not this hour, not now.
I feel him to be tender, wise.
I'm sure, all he gives me on the land.
He's not from our pathetic times:
He'll take my packets, give me hand.
I cast him to embrace me in his arms and take
Away me from all to horizon, realm.
With care he, when cold, will put on a cap,
And, when it's rain, he'll give umbrella.
And I believe him to be watchful either
To see me in the mob, my silhouette.
I shall remember this date and forever.
Today I only have time to wait.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem